Saving Sophie: Book Seven In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series Read online

  He shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “Can I make you some too?” It was the least she could do.

  “Sure.”

  “Do you have any bread?”

  “Over there.” He pointed to the dark, ugly paneled cupboard to her left. “You look different with your hair down.”

  She paused mid-reach as he slid a finger down a long strand.

  “You’re easy on the eyes, Blondie.”

  She set the eggs down before she dropped them, unsure of what to do. She didn’t know how to handle casual touches and compliments.

  “Uh, thanks.” She opened the cupboards pulling out a wretched bright green bowl, and found the bread while he sat at the card table. She cracked eggs, attempting to think of something to say in the humming silence. “Can I make you another cup of coffee?”

  “I won’t turn it down.”

  She dumped out the sludge he made and started again, scooping the proper serving, adding the right amount of water. Moments later she set the steaming mug in front of him along with the milk container.

  “You find another place to stay?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She turned back to the counter, not wanting to make eye contact as she whisked eggs and poured them into the heated pan. “The view is wonderful here. You have your own piece of paradise.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  She pushed the eggs around, careful to prepare them just right. Eric would be angry if—she stopped. Eric wasn’t here.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’ve got it taken care of.” There was no need for him to know that she would go back to the place he refused to drop her off. He’d been kind to let her stay here for the night. They would go their separate ways after breakfast, and he would be none the wiser.

  “Good. I’ll drop you off on my way into town.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to,” she said quickly. “I’ll take the bus. I don’t want to inconvenience you any more than I already have.” She set the perfectly cooked eggs on a plate along with the toast, giving him her share as well. She wanted the golden, deliciously scented eggs desperately, but it was time to go. He was asking too many questions. “Here’s your breakfast.”

  “Where’s yours?”

  “I’m not hungry.” Her stomach growled as she said it. “Excuse me.” Turning away from his penetrating stare, she ran warm water into the pan, and left the room. She went to the room she’d slept in and slid on a pair of jean shorts and a white tank top. Deodorant and a brush came next. She pulled her hair back in a bun and shouldered her pack, then walked out of the bedroom, hating that she had to leave a place that felt like home after so short a time. “I’m going to be on my way.” She put a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Thanks for the hot water and bed.”

  “Keep it.”

  She shook her head. “Your bathroom’s beautiful by the way.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to get started on the living room today.”

  “You did that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re very talented. I’m sure you’ll make yourself a wonderful home. Thank you again, Stone.” She’d never said his name before. “Bye.”

  “See ya.”

  She walked through the living room, savoring the comfort of safety, then stepped outside, back into the real world.

  ~~~~

  Stone forked up the last bite of the best eggs he’d ever eaten as the door shut quietly. He glanced at the twenty-dollar bill sitting on the table and set down his silverware. She didn’t have anywhere to stay. Blondie could make a mean breakfast, but she couldn’t lie for shit. He sat back in the folding chair, steaming out a breath. “Not your problem, McCabe. Don’t make this your problem.”

  He stood and walked to the window, watching as she made her way down his drive. She had excellent legs—lean and muscular—athletic to go with her arms. He studied the tight bun coiled at the back of her head. She was even more beautiful with her hair down. Why the hell did she wrap all of that gorgeous, soft hair up when it looked better falling down to her waist? She’d been different in her pajamas, puttering around in his ugly kitchen. She’d seemed relaxed. Her face transformed when she smiled. She was nice. And shy. He opened the front door, cursing himself as he called to her. “Sophie.”

  She stopped, turned.

  He walked to where she stood. “Are the cops looking for you?”

  “What? No.”

  She shook her head with such adamant denial he knew it was the truth. Blondie might not be running from the law, but she was in some sort of trouble; Abby was right about that.

  “You can stay here for a couple of days.”

  Hope filled those pretty violet eyes before she dropped her head and kicked the rock around with her sneakered foot. “That’s very kind, but I really can’t.”

  “Why?”

  She met his gaze again. “Because I don’t want to put you out. You’re trying to build your home.”

  “If you get in my way, I’ll let you know.”

  “You feel bad for me. I don’t want to take advantage of that.”

  His brow rose. “Does it look like I let people take advantage of me?”

  “I—”

  “Can you cook more than eggs?”

  “Yes.”

  “You make a couple meals like the one you did this morning and keep this place clean and we’ll call it even. There’s a bus stop across the street. It’ll take you an hour, maybe more to get downtown. You’ll have to head into work earlier if you plan to get back here every night.”

  “This is nice, but—”

  “Do you have a place to stay or not?”

  She shook her head, not quite able to meet his eyes.

  “This sounds like a pretty good deal to me. If you’re smart you’ll take it.”

  “I have to pay you.”

  She couldn’t be making much. “I don’t want your money.”

  “I need to give it to you.”

  He recognized pride and admired her for it. “Okay. What were you paying at the joint downtown?”

  “Twenty-five a night.”

  “You’ll need more money for bus fare, so we’ll make it fifteen a day. You can use your rent to feed us and keep this place picked up.”

  She nibbled her lip as she looked toward the water. “Okay.”

  His shoulders relaxed when she accepted. He was still trying to figure out why he gave a damn one way or the other. Maybe it was her whole sweet, wounded deal. Damsels in distress weren’t really his thing, but there was a first time for everything. Keeping an eye on her wouldn’t be so bad if she fed him and did his laundry. He held out his hand.

  Her brows furrowed.

  “Do we have a deal or what? Last time I checked, good business ends with a handshake.”

  She took the hand he offered and smiled. “I guess it does.”

  Chapter Six

  Sophie coated the jumbo shrimp, pasta, and tomatoes with the fresh pesto she’d prepared. Humming, she gently tossed the ingredients with a large serving spoon and pulled Cling Wrap from the drawer, securing the plastic in place. She set the container in the fridge and shut the door with a small bump of her hip. With half of the meal ready and an hour until the steaks had to go on the grill, she had plenty of time to get to the pair of earrings she’d been envisioning since she wandered back from the farmer’s market down the road.

  She glanced at the small pile of dishes soaking in the sink, took a step toward them, and turned away, walking to the card table where she and Stone ate and she created her jewelry in between meals. Eric always insisted that dishes be cleaned immediately. Messes of any kind were not permitted, but Stone didn’t care one way or the other. She would get to the dishes after dinner, when she was ready to tidy the kitchen. To most, such a small rebellion was no big deal, but for her it was a huge step in the right direction. No one was in charge of her life anymore except for her. For the last several weeks she’d drilled the idea into her
brain. Now she was starting to believe it.

  She glanced toward the living room as Stone turned the buffing machine back on, listening to the quiet hum that had filled the house for much of the afternoon while he worked on the floor. Today was the second full day they’d had off together during the week and a half she’d been staying with him. It was nice having him here, watching him make progress on his home. He was definitely a busy man.

  Living with Stone was far less complicated than she’d feared it might be. For the first couple of days she’d kept to her room or the kitchen, careful to stay out of his way, fearful she might upset him and be told to leave. But then he’d asked her what her problem was and that had been the end of that. Hiding and tiptoeing around the house wasn’t something a young, confident woman in charge of her life would do. She so desperately wanted to be confident and in charge.

  Baby steps, she reminded herself as she slid the pale blue Swarovski crystal on the headpin. Eventually she would feel like the Sophie she’d been before Mom got sick and she met Eric. She was making jewelry again, wasn’t she? And she was following a routine that allowed her to be creative and productive without anyone else’s directives.

  Now she just needed to keep making her pieces and put her money away. She definitely couldn’t stay here forever. Hopefully three square meals a day plus dessert and a spotless house would keep Stone in a generous mood until early fall. She bit her lip as she looped the wire around her pliers, wrapping the thin piece of sterling silver, hating the idea of leaving Stone’s cliff-top home. She loved it here. It was highly unlikely that her own place would be close to the beach she loved to run on or have fresh fruit and vegetable stands just across the street the way Stone’s did.

  Heck, it was doubtful she would ever have a house as nice as this. Stone’s home was a shamble—or had been before he bought the land and the shack on it, but Southern California property went for more than she would ever see. She thought of the trust she was likely never to inherit and shook her head as she set the wire-wrapped crystal on her beading mat.

  Luckily her finances were improving. They weren’t great, but they were certainly better now that she was here instead of the motel. The lean years she and Mom experienced after Dad died and Mom first opened her shop were beneficial to her now. She could feed herself and Stone well and pick up small things here and there to give his home a welcoming feel.

  Two days ago she’d taken a risk and selected towels for the bathroom. She’d stood in the store aisle for almost an hour, agonizing over just the right shade—straight white or cream—sweating, terrified of making the wrong choice. Ultimately she’d chosen the cream, purchasing four Egyptian cotton sets, using the coupon she’d found online while taking advantage of the big one-day sale.

  It had taken her most of yesterday morning to get up the courage to wash the new items and set them up perfectly on the racks. She’d worried herself sick, waiting for Stone to be angry with her for stupidly choosing wrong or for making the decision to purchase them without asking him first. When he’d taken his shower and walked out with the oversized towel draped around his waist and went back to his trailer without saying anything at all, she’d breathed a huge sigh of relief, realizing once and for all that Stone, like most men, was oblivious to such minor details.

  This afternoon she’d gotten bold while running errands. She’d found a small bamboo hamper and candles on clearance at one of the department stores, then she’d gone to the Farmer’s market and picked out three pretty plants, adding more touches to the bathroom, setting them about the beautifully tiled space, finishing the room with warm elegance.

  The floor buffer shut off and the house was silent except for the waves in the distance.

  “Blondie.”

  “Yeah?” She set down the clear crystal she was about to add to the next headpin.

  “Can you come here for a minute?”

  “Sure. Give me just a second.” She went to the fridge, pulling out the pitcher of filtered water, pouring him a tall glass, adding a slice of lemon she kept at the ready. She walked to the doorway, stopping short, staring at the gorgeous glossy floors.

  “Oh, Stone, this is amazing.”

  He grinned, his smile more devastating with his hair tucked beneath a kerchief. “You like it?”

  “Yes. It’s beautiful.” She bent down, sliding her fingers over the smooth work.

  “You can walk on it.”

  She stepped on the floor. “I can’t get over how you’ve transformed this room in such a short time.” He’d painted the walls a gray blue, playing nicely with the honey tone of the wood and white crown molding and baseboards. “This is—” She tripped over the buffer cord in her rush to stand at his side, losing her grip on the glass, gasping in horror as it shattered against the newly installed wood. She froze, staring down at the mess as the blood drained from her face. “I—I’m sorry,” she shuddered out, rushing from the room for a towel as her heart pounded. Hurrying back, she bent down, sopping up the liquid with frantic presses to the freshly buffed finish. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m clumsy and stupid. This was a stupid mistake.”

  Stone stepped closer and she cringed, bracing herself, ready for the slap.

  “Hey.” He crouched next to her while she snatched up the shards of glass with trembling fingers.

  “I’ll have this cleaned up in just a second,” she said in a rush, trying and failing to keep her breathing steady. “I—I can pay you for any damages.” She hoped. The new floor had to have set him back a few grand.

  “Hey.” He grabbed her wrist.

  She froze, darting him a glance as he frowned at her.

  “Take it easy. You’re going to cut yourself.” He loosened his grip. “Why are you shaking?”

  She felt the rush of heat move to her cheeks. “I—I don’t know. I should’ve paid closer attention.” She tried to break free of his hold. “I’ll have this cleaned up in just a minute. I have money in my backpack to pay for the glass and the floor. I don’t know why I’m so foolish.” Her eyes filled.

  “It’s just a broken glass.”

  “And water. I spilled water all over your pretty floor.”

  He shrugged. “That’s what the towel’s for.”

  “I might’ve scratched the wood. I’m careless.”

  “The cord was in the way, and if one shattered glass scratches my floor I need to do a better job.”

  “I’m sorry. I just—”

  “Stop saying that. It’s no big deal.”

  “I’m sor—” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was making a spectacle of herself. She looked at Stone again, measuring his curious eyes. “Let me get you another drink.”

  “Or you can go sit back down and finish the doo-dad you were making.”

  “But you must be thirsty.”

  “If I’m thirsty I’ll get myself a drink. Staying here doesn’t require you to wait on me.”

  She nodded. “You’re probably getting hungry. I’ll start the grill for the steaks.”

  “Did you hear what I just said?”

  She nodded again, but she didn’t know how not to wait on him. She was trying to break bad, unhealthy habits, but it was going to take longer than two months to do so.

  “Go make your earrings or bracelet or whatever that thing is and I’ll finish cleaning this up, then I’ll get the grill started and make the steaks.”

  “But our agreement—”

  “I’ll take care of dinner, Blondie.”

  “There’s—there’s asparagus too,” she mumbled.

  “Huh?” He moved in closer.

  “I said there’s asparagus too. They’ll need to be brushed with olive oil and dashed with kosher salt.”

  “Okay.”

  She swallowed, sliding several strands of hair behind her ear as she stared at his filthy sleeveless t-shirt instead of meet his gaze again. “Okay.” She walked back to the kitchen on weak legs, taking her seat, breathing deep. Was that what it wa
s like to make a mistake and not have to pay for it? And he was going to cook for her after she broke his dishes and got water all over his new floor? It had been so long since anyone had taken care of her in any way. She’d turned into Mom’s full-time caregiver, then Eric’s maid. Tonight, she was going to try her best to enjoy the idea of Stone helping her, even if it was just a steak and vegetables on the grill.

  ~~~~

  Stone flipped the steaks, satisfied with the hearty sizzle of the t-bones Sophie had picked up at the market. He’d eaten like a king since she walked through his door. When he got home at night, the house smelled good, and there was always some sort of fancy, delicious meal tucked away in a Pyrex dish for him to throw in the microwave and heat up.

  Initially he’d been relieved when she said she would stay, then he regretted offering her the room minutes after he proposed the idea, fearing he’d been duped by sad, violet eyes, but that had faded quickly. Now that Sophie was here he didn’t have to worry about washing and ironing his clothes, and the bathroom looked great. She’d added towels, plants, and other little things he never would’ve thought of. And the kitchen for as ugly as it was, was homey with the fresh flowers in the vase and potted herbs sitting on the windowsill.

  Having Sophie around was a damn good deal. She talked a lot more than the first few mornings they were home together, but it wasn’t so bad. Intelligent, gorgeous women were tolerable, especially when they had a smile as pretty as hers. She did that more too. He liked making her weary eyes brighten and those luscious lips curve, but she was still troubled. At the strangest times she flinched or froze—like in the living room when she spilled the water. He frowned as he remembered the way she’d instantly gone pale and cleaned up, shaking as if breaking a damn glass was the end of the world. Her pulse had stuttered double time against his fingers as he held her wrist in his hand. She’d been terrified.

  Sophie had secrets. He had his ideas as to what they were, but he didn’t ask, although he was more curious than he wanted to admit. She wasn’t interested in sharing, and he wasn’t interested in prying. The classy, rich girl with a hint of northeast in her voice was a long way from home. If she wanted to let him in on the big mystery, she would when she was ready. Until then, they would go on as they were, which appeared to work well for both of them. The less he knew the better. Getting wrapped up in other people’s problems didn’t interest him. “We’re about five, maybe six minutes from dinner,” he called to her through the open screen door.